


Ways To Say I Love You

by SpraceJunkie



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: M/M, So enjoy it, This is pure fluff, also the death of a sister but not for very long, i guess there's one little bit of sad?, parental abuse is mentioned but not in detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpraceJunkie/pseuds/SpraceJunkie
Summary: Quietly, while you were sleeping.Loudly, while we were fighting.Sincerely, when you needed it the most.Sweetly, when we were alone.Proudly, when anybody could hear me.Tiredly, after a long day at work.Whispering, when I didn't want anybody else to hear.





	

_Quietly, while you were sleeping. ___  
According to his sisters, Race fell in love easily.  
But until now, he knew he'd never really been in love. Not like this.  
He’d never been unable to stop thinking about the person he was dating.  
He’d never gotten flutters in his stomach after like, the fourth date.  
He’d never gotten so lost in somebody’s eyes that he missed part of a conversation.  
He’d never, in other words, been dating Spot Conlon.  
Spot, who hadn't even admitted they were dating until almost four months of hooking up. Who was somehow the sweetest and most sincere person Race knew, despite doing his best to be an asshole.  
Who had the coolest eyes and nicest skin and softest hair of anybody Race had ever dated.  
Spot who made Race totally forget his promise of never admitting to falling in love with somebody before they’d been dating for a long, unspecified amount of time.  
And that was how Race ended up looking at Spot’s sleeping face, drinking in the sounds of his steady breathing, the way the light from the streetlight outside the window made the shadows under his eyes look even darker, and whispering as though Spot could hear him, whispering everything he felt. That was why Race said the three words he didn't think he'd ever be saying out loud to somebody at the age of nineteen, at least not meaning them as completely as he did in that moment.  
“I love you, Spot.”  
According to his sisters, Race fell in love easily. Really, Race fell in like easily. Love was a lot harder, and he’d only just learned what that felt like. 

_____Loudly, while we were fighting _.__  
“Why do you care, Race? It’s just a fucking cut!”  
“It’s not just a cut, Spot! It’s every time you interact with your parents! It’s every scar on your arms and back! It’s you getting hurt!”  
“It isn’t anything you need to worry about! I can take care of myself!”  
“But you don't have to! I want to help! Tell me what’s happening!”  
“It’s none of your business!” Spot spun around like he was going to storm out of the room, but spun back before he did. “Just leave me alone! I’m! Fine!”  
“You’re not!”  
“Why do you care? Why don't you just let me do this myself?”  
“Because I love you, Spot!” The silence after Race couldn't contain the words anymore was deafening.  
“What?” It took Spot at least a minute to say anything.  
“I love you. I _want _to help. Let me, please.”__

_____________Sincerely, when you needed it the most _.__  
Seeing Spot cry was incredibly hard. Spot hadn't even cried when he was telling Race about all the horrible things his parents had done to him, and those stories had almost made Race cry. And now he was more than crying, he was sobbing. His shoulders were shaking, tears were streaming down his face, and he was clinging to Race like his life depended on it.  
Race had hardly seen anybody cry like that, let alone Spot.  
“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, Spotty. I’ve got you.”  
“She’s gone, Race, I don't have a little sister any more.”  
“I know.”  
“I want my little sister back. I just want her back, Race. Nobody-” Spot cut himself off as his tears came back full force. Race helplessly watched him shake as he ran his fingers through Spot’s hair, trying to do anything to calm him down. “I don't have anyone, Race. Nobody. I’m not going back to them, and I don't have anyone else.”  
“You have me, Spotty. You always will.”  
“What if I don't?”  
“You will. Spot, Sean. I love you. I’m not going to leave you.” Race held Spot against his side until he fell asleep, wishing he could do something other than hold him and be there. 

_________________Sweetly, when we were alone _.__  
Spot wasn’t a master at words, and Race knew it. It took a lot of effort for him to show emotion, let alone speak them out loud. And Race got that, since Spot had been told his entire life that real men didn't show emotion and he'd spent his entire life working to hide every emotion he felt.  
But sometimes, Race really wanted to hear Spot say he loved Race.  
And sometimes Spot showed it, because that’s what he did, he held Race close and touched him gently and stroked his hair or quietly remembered Race’s favorite coffee and brought it to him before work, and usually that was enough.  
But sometimes, Race just really, really wanted to hear the words. Sometimes, his own need for reassurance came close to outweighing his acknowledgement of Spot’s need to do things on his own time. And sometimes, that need to _know _that Spot loved him made him almost shut down.__  
He knew that Spot did. He trusted that Spot did. But he’d spent his life with such an over affectionate family that he was completely used to being told in words how much he was loved every day, all the time. And he knew that Spot loved him, but sometimes he just really needed to be told that Spot loved him, in those words.  
And those sometimes feelings led to nights where Race doubted their relationship, when he wondered if the man sleeping next to him cared about Race as much as Race cared about him, when he sort of shut down and waited for Spot to reassure him, somehow.  
“Tony? What’s wrong?” Another thing about Spot Conlon, he missed nothing.  
“Nothing. I’m just tired, is all.”  
“Okay.” Spot pulled Race into him anyway, holding him close. “I love you.” Spot whispered into Race’s hair and kissed the top of his head.  
Race felt himself relax into his boyfriend’s arms.  
Because sometimes, that’s all he needed in the world.  
His boyfriend holding him and whispering all the reassurance he needed. 

_________________________Proudly, when anybody could hear me _.__  
Spot was smart. Race had known that the minute they'd met.  
And Spot was going to be a great lawyer, Race had known that the minute he'd first heard Spot get into a debate.  
And those two things combined made Race the proudest person in the world, sitting at Spot’s law school graduation, watching his smart, amazing boyfriend graduate law school knowing he was going to have a job in the next two months, knowing they would have enough money to move them out of their tiny, cramped apartment, knowing that life was going to be good. And it was even better seeing Spot smile, just slightly, but really smile as he got his hand shaken and his diploma handed to him.  
And it was that proudness that led to Race being unable to contain himself as the graduates cheered and he just barely saw Spot through his classmates.  
“I love you!” He didn't think anybody had heard him, but suddenly Spot’s head popped up from the crowd like he was standing on his chair or something.  
And then Spot’s hand went up and he made eye contact with Race and then slowly and deliberately spelled something in ASL.  
I.  
Love.  
You.  
Too.  
And he didn't just use the sign for I love you, he spelled every single word separately. And then he held his eye contact, smiling more widely now, until he was pulled off his chair by a classmate and lost back into the rush of people. 

_____________________________Tiredly, after a long day at work _.__  
Cooking was not Spot’s strong suit. At all.  
As in, he’d melted three pots, gotten his entire group of friends banned from the dorm kitchens in college, accidently exploded tomato sauce up to the ceiling in their first apartment, and yet he was trying to cook again, for some reason.  
“Two cups of rice. Dammit, does that mean I use one cup of water or two cups of water?” He had to look up the right way to cook rice before he could go any further.  
His entire cooking experience was like that.  
“What the fuck is ginger? Do we have ginger? Which one is the spice cabinet again? Ah, ginger.”  
“How the fuck do I cut a pepper into matchsticks? What does that even mean?”  
“What. The fuck. How the fuck. Onions. I fucking hate you. Cut, goddammit!”  
“Is there even a difference between sesame oil and vegetable oil? Oh great, olive oil. Isn’t an olive a vegetable? What the fuck.”  
But somehow, eventually, the rice was cooked and in the pan with the vegetables and spices, and it looked okay.  
And he hadn’t even melted any pots yet.  
And a little while after that, only five minutes before Race should have been home he had the weird stir fry thing, which didn’t look much like the picture but at least tasted fine, on the table and ready to eat.  
“Sean? What’s that smell?” Race came home and dropped his coat on the floor on his way to the living room. “And what do you want for dinner? There’s stuff here or we can order something.”  
“I, um, cooked.” Spot poked his head out of the kitchen. “Or, I tried to, I guess.”  
“You cooked?” Race suddenly looked slightly scared.  
“I didn't burn anything!”  
“Are you sure?”  
“It tasted okay to me. It’s...stir fry, sort of.”  
“Wow.” Race stepped into the kitchen and took in the mess.  
“I’ll clean up later, I promise. I just figured you hate working the dinner shift, since it’s so long and busy, so I shouldn't make you do more food work when you come home, too.” Race smiled.  
“I love you.”  
“I know.” Spot smiled back at his boyfriend and pushed him to the table. “So eat and then sleep. Yeah?”  
“Yeah.” 

_________________________________Whispering, when I didn't want anybody else to hear _.__  
It took too long for this point in their lives to come.  
It took way too long to stand in front of their friends and exchange rings and kiss and be _married _.__  
And even if their cake ended up more on them than in them, that was okay, because Spot was smiling and Race was smiling, and the Italians were singing loudly and their friends were making horrible jokes and Spot’s lawyer friends all looked vaguely uncomfortable, except for the one who was on the floor with the dog on her lap, who looked like a lap full of Marbles was all she wanted out of life.  
And it took way too long for Spot to hold out his hand and shyly ask Race to dance, and to dance with his head on Race’s shoulder, relaxed and comfortable.  
And even though everybody was watching them, Spot still stretched up to kiss Race on the cheek and whisper into his ear.  
“I love you, ‘Tonio.”  
“I love you too, Seany.” 


End file.
